


A Simple Solution

by Arpad



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Handers Secret Satinalia, M/M, justice as a wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arpad/pseuds/Arpad
Summary: Created for the 2017 Handers Secret Satinalia exchange for tumblr user arwingyoshiTheir prompt was:  Hawke and Anders dancing alone in the bedroom. Bonus points if Justice gets involved somehowThis is my first attempt at fanfic in roughly 10 years so please be gentle. To make up for that it's illustrated??





	A Simple Solution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArwingYoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwingYoshi/gifts).



It had been in the room Hawke occasionally lent him on nights too cold or dangerous or weary to return to his Darktown clinic after a long day solving problems for strangers. The Mansion had been nearly empty when Hawke had deemed it safe and sanitary enough to move in. He and his mother had few possessions after their flight from Fereldon, and certainly not enough to fill a Hightown mansion.

Luckily Leandra knew this place, aged and altered though it was, and she often passed the time exploring the cellars and store-rooms, delighting in small things that the slavers had overlooked or simply thought worthless -but nothing was worthless to Leandra, whose husband and only daughter were dead, her youngest son conscripted by the Wardens, and her only remaining child risking his life daily.

And so it was that Anders was not particularly surprised to find the little lyre-harp on display on the mantle as he stoked the fire one particularly frigid night in the dead of winter. It was still early despite the dark, and he was feeling jittery with nerves for having accepted Hawke's invitation to come to the mansion.

Truly, the walk from the Hanged Man to his clinic would have been shorter, and with the sickening heat of the sewers, it would have been much warmer than the icy steps to Hightown. But Hawke had offered and Anders, perhaps a little drunk, had imagined Hawke offering him other things too.

He’d sobered quickly once out in the cold, fingers numb and nose surely about to shatter right off his face. Hawke, furnace of a man, was not even wearing extra layers. The only indication of the subfreezing temperatures was the flush to his face and neck. It was no wonder that it didn't occur to Hawke to pull Anders in close for the heat. He must think Anders perfectly warm with his thick coat, his collar pulled high to shield his ears from the biting winds.

Still, Anders couldn't help but feel disappointment as he retired to his room early. If not in Hawke's lack of reaction to his rather desperate (and admittedly subtle) glances, than disappointment in his own inability to be honest about his intentions.

Guilt crept in as he listlessly took the small instrument down from its place above the hearth. He strummed without purpose while searching within himself for the strength to either make his feelings for Hawke known or to give up entirely.

He found himself wishing for dialogue with Justice. His friend's naiveté surrounding human nature was not good for providing advice, but, sometimes being forced to break his motivations into simple terms so that the spirit could understand was more helpful than the biased opinions of a mortal friend. Now that they were one, however, there were no more careful requests for clarification that often guided him towards a delightfully simple solution. Aside from flares of emotion that he was relatively sure were not his own, or the occasional inability to drop a train of thought, Anders was alone.

Anticipating a long and lonely night spent hiding in this borrowed room, Anders attempted to focus on the Lyre in his lap. His fingers had reflexively been playing something, and as he listened he was pleasantly surprised to find the tune familiar. It had been many years since he had played anything at all and frankly he was shocked at the accuracy of his fingers on the wires, the ease with which the song grew in complexity as he played.

As the song progressed and he still hadn’t fumbled even one note, He began to suspect that his memory of the instrument was being augmented by unnatural means. Anders laughed aloud as affection for his old friend surged within him, a short, clipped thing that would have embarrassed him if overheard.

Soon Anders was playing with a skill he knew was not his own, having never been more than a mediocre musician at best, even when he had the opportunity to play semi-regularly. Knowing that he was not controlling his own hands should have frightened him, but this was nothing like when he almost. . .

 . . No. Instead this felt like a gift, a reminder of a simpler time in his life. It was one of the few pleasant memories he had of growing up in the Circle. On cold nights when the dark came too soon and none could focus on their work when it felt so late despite being so early - on those nights the mages would gather. Someone inevitably began playing some song or another under the guise of teaching an apprentice how to work the instrument, and in no time at all there would be a small band going.

Even the templars hadn’t complained at the happy display. Sometimes the whole tower would fill with music, a strange orchestra formed from mismatched instruments and songs from across Thedas combined into one merry show. There was dancing, and singing, and –

Anders stopped short, heat rising to his face as he suddenly realized that Hawke was in his doorway. How long had he been watching Anders get lost in memories? He'd surely been making a horribly embarrassing face as he played -it was nearly impossible not to, even when he had played regularly but now, while thinking himself alone and completely lost in memory? fuck!

But Hawke was smiling at him with gentle eyes. If Anders allowed himself weakness, he would have called the man's expression 'dreamy.' If he allowed himself to be weak he would interpret that dreamy expression as affection. Maybe even affection towards himself.

Instead, Anders falls back on his defenses, feigning confidence and forcing a smirk, "Bewitched, Hawke? _Careful!_ While I do believe Justice is in control of my hands just now, I don't want you flirting with demons to gain such skills. He's only taking advantage of my muscle memory, so unless this Lyre is yours, which I doubt because then why isn't it in your room, then-"

"You're babbling, Anders. Do you know any other songs? Something a bit livelier?" Hawke was laughing now and were it anyone else, Anders may have made a show of being offended by the interruption, the demand, or both. But this was Hawke- the man who was everything he wanted, for himself as a partner and for mages as a representation of how things should be. Raised in a family with three of the five members possessing magic, only vaguely aware of any templar threat. He took joy in his abilities in a way so few who had lived Circle life were able to -and that joy was contagious. Unlike so many free Mages, Hawke listened to Anders. When he learned of the plight of Circle mages he didn't look the other way in favor of the privilege he'd enjoyed. He supported the cause as best he could, or as best as Anders would allow him. Maker, Anders would do anything to protect that smile.

..That amused smile which caused his face to heat when he realized that he'd been lost in thought. He stammered and fully intended to deliver a smart reply - except as he prepared a biting remark, Hawke dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed next to Anders, knocking shoulders with him and nearly causing him to drop the instrument he was still holding only loosely.

Without hesitation, Hawke placed a hand on either end of the Lyre without removing it from Anders lap, leaning farther into Anders's space as a necessity. He turned to speak, a conspiratorial grin on his face, and said simply, "Now play for me, Anders."

Anders wanted to close the distance between them, and he nearly did - but for reasons that felt eerily out of his control, instead of kissing Hawke senseless, his fingers again began to play. Something that started simply but built into a fast jaunt that had been popular on the more rambunctious nights in the Circle. It soon had him tapping his foot and had Hawke laughing with delight.

It was awkward, watching his hands play while Hawke seemed to focus in on the lyre itself - which was too small to be held comfortably by two adult men - but somehow not a note went wrong despite the speed required by his fingers that still felt stiff from the lingering cold.

When the song was complete and the strings of the lyre were finally still again, Hawke snatched the instrument out of his hands and stood so quickly that Anders nearly fell into the space that had been occupied by the heavy man a moment before.

He watched Hawke place the lyre back on the mantle and Just as a sense of disappointment was again settling tight in his shoulders, wondering what he had done to end the intimate (if awkward) interaction between them, Hawke extended a hand to him in a clear invitation.

Curious, and definitely _not_ blushing up to his hairline, Anders took the offered hand. Hawke was strong for a mage, but Anders was still surprised to find himself in the man's arms faster than he could register the movement that got him there.

Hawke laced the fingers of his right hand with Anders' and grinned up at him, "And now I'll show you one of _my_ skills, which I promise required no Demon's help to learn" Anders may have been blushing after all.

With his free hand, Hawke glanced towards the mantle and made a quick gesture that Anders missed entirely, overwhelmed by the slight stretch in the webbing of his fingers caused by Hawke's much thicker fingers wedged in tight, by the intense heat of the shorter man, and of course by the pressure of Hawke's dense form pressed into his sternum.

And so Anders was caught off guard when the first few notes of the song he had just played rang out into the air. Transfixed, he watched as the lyre strings plucked themselves. He looked back at Hawke who, if possible, was grinning even wider than before, "How ..?"

His confusion was rewarded with a bark of laughter and Hawke’s free hand now on his hip. "My father used this trick whenever mother was angry with him! The spell stores a memory of movement within an object"

As the tempo increased Hawke began to move and brought Anders with him. Anders was tense only for a moment before he realized that the man he had been pining over for the better part of three years was dancing with him. Alone!

Anders let himself be led around the small clearing in the room and silently thanked Justice for providing a delightfully simple solution to the problem that was Garret Hawke.

 


End file.
